This Shortlist article on famous British authors’ homes is pretty fascinating, and it certainly calls the “poor, starving writer” stereotype into question. More like posh, thriving writer. (I mean, seriously, P. G. Wodehouse?? Alexander McQueen picked up your digs.)
I was a little sad that they left out Virginia Woolf’s Fitzroy Square home, because I lived just down the street from it for two years. Sadly, despite
mentioning briefly in passing proudly pointing this out to everyone I know, exactly one person cared.
It’s OK, V. I’ll be your fan club.